Being Willing to Be Taught

Paddy Upton

There’s a moment in most learning journeys where effort alone stops being enough.

Up to that point, energy, intent, and repetition can carry us a long way. But eventually, the limits of self-reliance show up. Not because we aren’t working hard, but because we’re working in familiar loops, reinforcing what we already know rather than expanding what we don’t.

In elite sport, those moments often arrive publicly, under pressure, and with consequences. In business or leadership, they can be quieter, but no less confronting. A decision that doesn’t land. Feedback that stings. A result that exposes a gap between intention and impact.

What happens next tends to matter more than the original mistake.

In a conversation with Dale Steyn, he reflects on a period early in his career when things weren’t working. Confidence was low, performances were inconsistent, and the usual responses — pushing harder, saying less, trying to appear unaffected — weren’t helping. What changed wasn’t a new drill or a sudden breakthrough. It was a question.

Instead of absorbing criticism or bracing against it, he asked to be taught.

That moment sounds simple, but it carries weight. Asking for help, cleanly and without defensiveness, requires humility. Staying open while doing so takes courage. Particularly in environments where competence is prized and vulnerability is often misread as weakness.

Many people assume that learning stalls because feedback isn’t available. In reality, feedback is often present but unused. It arrives wrapped in emotion, status, or threat, and instead of engaging with it, we protect ourselves. We nod. We withdraw. We explain. We quietly disengage.

Over time, this creates a subtle distance between performance and learning.

What stood out in Dale’s experience wasn’t just the willingness to ask for guidance, but what followed. The relationship that developed was grounded in clarity rather than reassurance. When something wasn’t right, it was addressed directly. When it was, it was reinforced. The exchange wasn’t about ego or hierarchy, but about improvement.

That shift matters.

Learning accelerates when feedback becomes information rather than judgement. When correction is experienced as support, not attack. But that environment rarely forms on its own. It’s often co-created by the way questions are asked and received.

This applies far beyond sport.

In teams, leadership groups, and organisations, progress frequently slows when people feel they need to appear certain. The pressure to look capable can quietly override the need to keep learning. Over time, curiosity gives way to control, and growth flattens out.

Being willing to be taught doesn’t mean abandoning standards or responsibility. It means recognising that development is rarely a solo activity. It also means understanding that strength isn’t found in having fewer gaps, but in engaging with them honestly.

Most setbacks aren’t terminal. They’re instructional. But only if we stay open long enough to learn from them.

The question, then, isn’t whether feedback exists, or whether support is available. It’s whether we’re prepared to ask for it — and whether we’re willing to be taught when it arrives.